Less Is More
by SaoirseParisa
Summary: Writers Anonymous No Dialogue Challenge Entry. Natsuki is busy with her new poem for the literature club, but she's having a bit of trouble writing it, even though she resolved to try something new. This is the story of how she wrote her poem, "Because You."


**A/N** : This is my entry for the Writers Anonymous forum's All Dialogue or All Narrative Challenge. I chose an all-narrative for this one, as I thought it'd be good for this kind of story.

Also, the picture used as the cover doesn't belong to me. It was made by Satchely, the game's artist, and proper credit goes to them.

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The melody of a pen tapping against the fringes of a paper in a spiral notebook rang through Natsuki's ears. It was the only sound she heard, other than her own grumbling and the sound of her feet flopping against her bed sheets. Only white paper sat before her, and no words came to her mind. She had decided to try something new, write a new kind of poem, rather than her cutesy, minimalist poems that she often wrote for the literature club. She had decided to write something new, but no ideas came to mind. Natsuki ran a hand through her pink hair, bright and fluffy like cotton candy. She knew trying something new wasn't easy-lots of people had trouble with it-but she mentally scolded herself for being naive and thinking she could churn something out.

With a grumble, she slammed the notebook closed and buried her face in her comforter. It had been at least an hour since she began working on her new poem, but she hadn't written a single thing, much less anything she could bring herself to be proud of. Papers rolled into cursory balls were scattered across the floor, with black scribbles being their only content. Natsuki let her face sink into the comforter, and darkness embraced her. Soft, soothing, comforting darkness that embraced her with the warmth of a gentle hug. Not like the cold, unfeeling, frightening darkness that she sometimes saw some days. The darkness that would come when her stomach would growl, begging for food that she would never have access to. The darkness of the purple bruises that marked her arms and legs, leaving the skin tender and sensitive.

Today was dim, and she could only look down.

Natsuki perked up. There was something she could write, and it sounded good! With that in mind, Natsuki flipped her notebook open and scribbled it down before the sentence could leave her head. Now it was written down, and she wouldn't forget it. A smile spread across her face. It wasn't much, but it was something. Still, she knew there had to be more. In contrast to that sentence, the weather outside was pristine and pleasant, bright with sunshine and a blue sky that seemed almost blinding. She was sure tomorrow would be brighter, especially if the literature club had her around.

Tomorrow would be brighter, especially with her around.

Another good line she could use. Natsuki wrote it down, just a few lines above the sentence she wrote just seconds ago. That would be the beginning. Soon, ideas were pouring into her head. This poem could be something nice and uplifting, in contrast to some of the negative stuff she had been writing lately. Suddenly, an image flashed through her mind. A plain-looking young man her own age, with brown hair and matching eyes, as normal and plain as can be. One of her friends in the literature club. Natsuki put the end of her pen on her chin, losing herself in her thoughts.

Come to think of it, it was because of him that Natsuki had been much happier lately. Sure, she knew sometimes her abrasive, cranky nature could put people off, and it definitely cost her some friends. She never knew who to trust with her whole heart, and anyone she would interact with were sure to reject her true feelings and her wish to be herself around them. Whether it was her love for manga, especially Parfait Girls, a cutesy magical girl manga that was far outside her demographic, or her blunt honesty and aversion to sugar coating the truth...the rejection would always hurt, like a knife stabbing her in the heart.

When she wanted to say something, she wanted to shout, but her truest feelings could never come out. But her words would be less empty because he would listen to her.

Natsuki's hand moved on its own, the pen writing, creating ink that made words, lots of them, whole sentences and stanzas that actually looked like something substantial. Before long, her hand wouldn't stop writing, even as her wrist throbbed from writing for so long. Words overflowed in her mind, and the hand holding the pen made them all come right out.

Her pen always put her to the test. She knew she wasn't a good writer-not like Haruki Murakami, Ryunosuke Akutagawa, or any of those famous writers-but her best was her best. Gradually, her poems became a little bit dearer because he thought of her.

For once in a very long while, Natsuki actually believed in herself. She believed that maybe she could write something genuinely good. Not great or prize-winning material or anything like that, but something she would be proud of...something he would like, too. There were times when she did believe in herself with all her heart, but so many times, the belief was always torn apart, piece by piece. So-called friends chastising her for liking manga. Her father scolding her for not being more grown up. The weekly blows and hits she had to endure, making her feel smaller and smaller. But her faith would be a little bit stronger because her friend trusted her.

He sat with her during the meetings at the literature club, and just from that, she would feel herself growing a little taller, not physically, but inside her heart. When something was above her, she reached for the stars, but often times she felt small, just like her short stature, and couldn't get very far. Finally, Natsuki's writing hand came to a stop, resting from so much writing. Her newest poem was done! Natsuki's smile stretched all the way across her face, cutting through her cheeks. This was a poem she knew she was proud of. Just looking at it made her feel like she made something truly good in her eyes. Short but sweet. Her favorite saying was less is more. Yes, less could be more.

The paper on which she wrote wound up having lots of creases and bends from her writing so much on it. The side of her hand even had a trail of smudged black ink going across it. Natsuki didn't mind. She figured she could just spit on it and rub her other hand across it to get it off, or if not that, she could wash her hands at school the next day. Still, her poem was done. Natsuki glanced at the clock on her wall. It read 6:30 PM. Had she really been at it for almost two hours now? She looked down at her poem, liking what she saw. At least it was time well used.

Natsuki's stomach let out a roar, begging for something, anything, to eat. She sighed. She hoped today there would be something in that decrepit refrigerator, or maybe there was the rare chance that her father would actually order or make something for once. But she knew she couldn't get her hopes up. Just as she walked out of her room, a potential title for her poem popped up in her head like a jack-in-a-box.

Because You.

Because you, because you, because you…

A smile returned. Short and sweet. Less is more. Natsuki smiled to herself. That title was absolutely perfect. Suddenly, the lingering hunger didn't seem so bad.

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 **A/N** : Just so everyone knows, the "he" whom Natsuki is referring to is the protagonist of Doki Doki Literature Club. The guy who you can basically name whoever you want. This is my first time writing for this fandom, and I hope I did Natsuki justice. If not, please let me know and I'll rectify things accordingly.


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